Opera
by Ronald del Reagan
Summary: An encounter in the Shadow Isles turns Jhin back to his ways of old. Of all the evils that dwell there, none are quite as menacing as him.


" _And now, the curtain rises."_

 _i._

Dead leaves crunched under a lone man's boots as he walked along cracked black earth in the Shadow Isles. The gold trimming in his tunic was illuminated from the hollow glow of the moon overhead. He repeatedly spun his sidearm in his hand with an almost hypnotic consistency. His back was hunched over slightly, and, with an unsettling, almost inhuman gait, he continued past the outer tree line and into the deeper jungle of the isles.

Unbeknownst to him, a pair of eyes surveyed him from a distance, watching with a mixture of hostility and curiosity.

Jhin made his way into the thicket, pushing aside branches and shrubbery alike. His eyes scanned the jungle, looking for any sign of movement. There was none.

He laughed.

This was the Shadow Isles after all. The one place in Runeterra where life didn't belong, at least for the most part.

Still, he continued forward with moderate trepidation. There may be no life here, but there was plenty of death. As a child, he was told stories of the isles. Ghouls, ghosts, and the like _supposedly_ roamed this place, their hunger for the souls of the living driving them to surface in the earthly world to reap those who trespass into the Shadow Isles.

Those were just stories, though. Told by his fellow crew-members to frighten him.

Still, he could not shake a feeling of uneasiness. It laid itself in his gut, snaking its way throughout his whole body. Since he stepped foot on the beach he felt something was wrong here. The air tasted funny, there was no wind, and, oh, the moon was fucking green.

"A strange place, indeed." He said to no one in particular.

His journey continued onwards, through the jungle and into the mainland. Much to his surprise and relief, it was without incident. A few odd noises here and there, sounding much too similar to moans of the dead for his liking, but just sounds, nonetheless.

He knew nothing of the layout of the innermost region of the Shadow Isles. Neither did those who sent him here. But, he still had on order to carry out, and Khada Jhin never fails to succeed in brilliant fashion. He came into a clearing and took notice of the oddly placed castle in front of him. It was relatively small, holding only a few towers and a modest keep at its center. The dark grey bricks used in its construction must have been hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. They were cracked and decaying, falling out in and onto the earth in several places. There were no torches lit, no guards stationed. It appeared, at least to Jhin, that no one was home.

Surrounding the castle was a moat of thick green goo, almost gelatin in consistency, that bubbled every few seconds and exploded, sending a small stream a few feet into the air. He made note that it probably would be wise to avoid that.

He searched for the drawbridge to bring him across the moat and to the gate house and found it on the opposite side of the clearing he had emerged from. To his surprise, the bridge was down and looked relatively sturdy, almost like an invitation. He would set up here, rest, and get back to the mission after some much needed sleep.

He began walking across, hand atop his holster in case of emergency. He looked skyward for a moment and examined the dark grey clouds with a tint of green from the moon's reflection when he felt a presence nearby. Immediately, he drew his pistol, holding it by his waist, finger on the trigger, ready to fire at a moment's notice. He surveyed his surroundings. Nothing looked different, but he could swear he felt someone, or something, a moment ago.

"My, my, do I have a visitor?" He called out, hoping to elicit some sort of response.

No sound came forth to answer, only a blunt strike to the back of his head. He toppled over, losing his grip on his trusted pistol, Whisper, and crumbling to the ground. His vision faded and vaguely he felt himself being drug towards the castle before losing his consciousness altogether.

 _ii._

A massive headache and an apt amount of disorientation greeted Jhin when he awoke.

Figures.

He looked around, surveying his surroundings. Iron bars, a drop of liquid making a _splash_ on the floor every couple of seconds, dim lighting, a wooden bed with no pillows or blanket. Using this information, and after heavy consideration and study, he could determine that it did in fact appear that had been taken captive. Who would have guessed? His fingers made their way to Whisper's holster only to find it was gone. He panicked. Imagine his dismay when he found out his mask was absent as well. The only two things he needed to perform his art were missing. Tragedy! Eyes narrowing and brow furrowing, Jhin wrapped his fists around the iron bars of his temporary home and convulsed like a child throwing a tantrum.

Once his temper settled, The Virtuoso sat down on the wooden bed. It groaned with a _creaaaaak_ before accepting his weight. He laid his back against the cement wall behind him and muttered expletives to himself for a short time before he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway.

He could tell that the feet of whoever was walking towards his cell were currently occupying high heels as they made a distinct noise.

 _Click. Clack. Click. Clack._

They were measured steps, each spaced perfectly from one another, leaving a sharp staccato sound for him to appreciate. This person may be an uncivilized scoundrel, but at least they had decent rhythm.

Finally, the footsteps stopped right before his cell, and regardless of how curious he was to see what he assumed was his captor in the flesh, he hid his face by facing the opposite direction of the bars.

"It's generally considered chivalrous to greet a lady when she makes her appearance you know." Came a feminine voice from the other side of the bars. Jhin squinted his eyes. Her voice was… Unnerving, to put it mildly. On one hand, it was laced in seductiveness. The way she slowly pronounced words like "chhhivalrous" and "shhhe" with drawn out beginnings was quite alluring. On the other hand, her voice held a fair amount of darkness. Like a woman who's relishing in watching your demise. He shivered slightly at that thought.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"M-my mask…" He responded. "What have you done with my mask?"

"You mean this one?" He turned his head slightly, only enough to see with one eye if what she said was true. Sure enough, in her hands was his mask.

"Please return in." He pleaded.

"And why would I do that?" She answered. "So you can hide your face?"

Jhin's eyes narrowed. "Hide? No, the mask does not hide myself. It shows more than my face ever could. The craftsmanship, design, material, they are more than just things." He scoffed, visibly irritated by her lack of appreciation for fine art. "It is more than just a facade or front. Masks give a scope into a person's very soul."

"You're an odd one." He felt something hit him in the back, and, upon reaching behind himself, was delighted to find his headgear. Equipping it quickly, he turned around to face the one who brought him here.

And what a sight she was to see.

She was petite, probably only standing at around five and a half feet tall. Her hair was a dark pink color and it spiked upwards, seemingly defying gravity. She had quite an... _interesting_ outfit on. It seemed somewhat tribal, with her groin veiled by what looked like a fancy loincloth and her breasts covered by something that could only be described as slightly more than a bra. She wore spiked stockings and had ribbons dangling from her elbows. Her clothing and hair was normal compared to the rest of her appearance. Instead of fingernails, she had razor sharp claws and an accompanying pair of menacing violet eyes.

Oh, and she was fucking blue.

Her skin was literally blue.

 _You've gotta be shitting me._

During his days as a traveling stagehand in Ionia, Jhin had seen some weird shit. One village he visited had a boy with no arms and three legs. Poor thing was probably a result of incest. But this woman made all of that seem trivial.

He gulped. "What-who-are you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You have the audacity to sneak into my home and ask _me_ who I am? Who are you?"

Jhin stood up, dusting off his legs and gripping his forehead in disgust. "Ah, where are my manners?" He got on one knee and put his hand over his chest. "My lady, I have many names, but those close to me call me Jhin."

"It is nice to meet you, Jhin." What seemed like a permanent frown on her face turned into a rather carnivorous smile. "Enjoy your stay here."

Just like that, she was gone.

No, not in the sense of walking away quickly, like, literally fucking vanished in front of his eyes. One moment, she was there, smiling at him, the next, gone.

He laid down onto the bed and rested his head against the wood.

"A strange place, indeed."

 _iii._

It had been days. Or at least it felt like it. He could never tell because there was no way of seeing the outside world in this cell. Even if he could, the isles stayed in a perpetual state of darkness so it's not like it would help much. His hunger and thirst were growing to desperate levels, and his mind had become a disheveled mess. How could one contain all that he is like this? He needed space and freedom to bloom, to perform art, to perfect his craft. Being pent up in a cell denied him these necessities, and because of this, he had become unhinged. His mind had dissipated into little more than a red haze. His vision was painted with rage. The Golden Demon had returned.

Amber eyes behind The Virtuoso's mask turned red. He vaguely felt his hands grip the iron bars that confined him. He was being treated like an animal. His captor had not tortured him, nor had she ended his life; she just merely left him in this cell to rot.

If they wanted an animal, they would get one.

His hands moved on their own accord and slowly began bending the bars apart. He let out a growl- deep and slow in sound- as he made a gap sizable enough to pass through. He hadn't been put in this state in a long, long time. Now that he was, there was only one way of stopping it. The Demon demanded blood. Lots of it.

 **Chapter 1/3**


End file.
